A very well behaved crowd in the market hall were watching France finally lose to Italy in the football world cup. (Perhaps you heard about it?).

"Who's winning", I asked a charming thuggish-looking mixed race French chap who tried to explain to me what was going on.

The market hall was packed to burstin' (look at the boy standing with one foot on a bollard and straining to see the screen). We tucked back into a shop doorway and watched. Well, Jo watched the football and I tried to watch everything else, determined not to use the flash and now pleased not to have had to tweak these shots at all.

When that 'phet-phuelled(?) phuckwit Zidane did the head butt (do click this), there was an embarrassed near-silence from the Souillac crowd, but at all other times there was nothing other than a pleasantly excited and happy atmosphere sporadically interrupted by the Gallic equivalent of oompah music from a seemingly impromptu brass band hidden deep in the crowd.

Amongst the many things I like about the French is that they do seem to very clearly understand that football is of no importance whatsoever and that when they lost, they'd lost. And that was it. So...........

...........Time to celebrate with fireworks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!